A/N: My modem died, and apparently the biggest city in the country isn't metropolitan enough to have stores that open on the weekend.

Thanks so much to all you reviewers! I love each and every one of you in the most non stalker way possible!

X X X X

Pony rode home from the courthouse with Two-Bit's family so he could finally have a smoke. All that stress had finally become too much, and he felt that he deserved one. Maybe he'd get a good night's sleep for a change.

Between the three of them, Pony, Two-Bit and Mrs Mathews smoked their way through the remainder of his weekly pack, talking and laughing and enjoying finally having the stress taken off their shoulders. Ponyboy hadn't felt this at ease since before Johnny and Dally died. A sudden thought came to him then. He'd lost four people within a year, two at a time, he had adults he didn't know constantly trying to take him away from the two people he had left in his family, his house had burned down and he'd jut discovered his favourite past time, the one he had thought nothing more than an expensive habit, was actually slowly killing the person he loved more than anyone. Did other people have this life? Did the rich, west side kids really have troubles? He knew Cherry had said they did, but he wasn't sure how much he believed her anymore. She didn't have his life. She didn't know what he went through.

He shook himself free of his thoughts. They were horrible thoughts. Cherry didn't know what he went through, so how could he pretend to presume he knew what she went through? She might have lost so much more, but never wanted to tell him.

He sighed. His thoughts were heading swiftly down what Soda called the "woe is me" path. Those ideas had no place in his head after he had just been told his life might finally be heading back on track. He resolved to celebrate, and to not dwell on things he had no control over.

X X X X

Soda was enjoying the drive home immensely. He had always loved driving because it made him feel free. It gave him a sense of power that nothing else could. In fact, if Darry had not been in the car, Sodapop probably would have been off towards one of the roads he knew through his boss, the ones the fuzz never stopped at and no cars ever came on. Instead, sharp corners and quick acceleration would have to suffice.

"Soda, would you please slow down?" Darry requested, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "I don't want my celebration of getting to keep my brothers with me to turn into my funeral. Then you'd definitely be going to a foster home."

"Relax, Dare," said Soda happily. "I'm a better driver than you give me credit for. Hey, you know what the judge said?"

"He said a lot of things, none of which I want to repeat right now."

"About me, how you'd have to come up with so many dollars to keep me."

Darry looked out the window. "I don't want you to worry about that, Soda, I'll sort it out."

"Yeah, well, I was thinking, about that second job –"

"He also said technically you're under the State now," interrupted Darry. "I've got you on loan. That means they'll be watching you a hell of a lot more closely, and they'd kill me if I let you have a second job. You ain't getting one, Soda, face it."

Soda, who had been looking at Darry through his speech, swerved back onto the road to avoid hitting a tree. "You talk about me like I'm a library book."

"Yes, and that's exactly how they'll treat you, don't you forget it. So long as you stay with me you won't have that library book status, so you do everything you can to stay with me. That means no second jobs!"

Soda said nothing, and Darry's curiosity finally piqued. "Why do you want one so much, anyway?"

Soda was quiet for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not he should tell his brother. He knew telling him the reason why would completely change Darry's whole perception of him. Darry thought he was stupid and Soda knew it. He didn't care. He actually liked that Darry thought of him that way. It was better than Pony, who had always thought that Soda was actually just as smart as Darry and himself, but didn't try. Soda much preferred dumb to lazy.

He decided to tell him. Darry would get it out of him anyway, and it wasn't like he'd hate him or anything. "I've been offered a job," he said, pulling the car up outside Two-Bit's house.

"You have?" Darry said, clearly surprised. Soda knew why. After all, who on earth would go out of their way to offer a job to a seventeen year old dropout who sold books? "What, at another bookstore?"

"No, it's a bit different," said Soda, looking at his hands. He didn't know why he was so shy. Darry would be over the moon with pride – or so he hoped. The other side was that Darry would laugh, tell him he could never do the job even if he had permission to go for it, that he was too dumb. It wasn't likely, but still possible. Well, there wasn't anything to do but try, and if he didn't, he'd hate himself forever. "I've been offered a job as a medical researcher."

Darry was quiet for a few moments, and Soda chanced a glance upwards. Darry looked almost… confused. Why would he be confused? "Are you serious?"

Soda's tiny hopeful smile slipped. Darry didn't think he was good enough. Well, what more could he hope for?

Darry suddenly looked horrified. "I didn't mean to sound so callous," he said, trying to erase his mistake. "I was just… surprised. It's great news, Soda. Really."

Soda smiled. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I know why you think that. I couldn't even pass a high school test on anything to do with science, it's not likely anyone would give me a job most doctors aren't qualified enough for. But I was offered it."

"Then I'm proud of you. Tell me about it."

"One of the doctors at the hospital… I told him I didn't want to deal with asthma at all any longer. I wanted it gone, permanently."

"Of course you do," Darry put in quietly. How many nights had he lain awake thinking the same thing?

"He said he didn't think much was happening about it," Soda continued. "It's not a high priority on anyone's list. There are loads of people who suffer from it, but most of them don't get that sick, so there's not as much government money in it as some other things. He said he thought young people would do a better job; they're more passionate, and I care a lot for… obvious reasons."

"I'm really proud of you, Sodapop," Darry said, and Soda beamed. It was the icing on the cake for him. Even if he was only with his family on loan, he was with his family; and Darry hadn't just laughed the idea of him as a medical researcher off, ludicrous as it was even to Sodapop. At that moment, life couldn't be any sweeter.

X X X X

"Turn left here."

Ponyboy was seconds away from freaking out. Soda had taken him driving again, but this time it wasn't on deserted roads where there was plenty of room for error and the worst that could happen was he hit a tree or a parked car at fifteen miles an hour. No, now he was driving on real roads, with people and cars and dogs and traffic lights…

To top it off, Soda was being considerably less than Driving Instructor of the Month. In fact, Pony would say he spent more time with his eyes shut than open, leaning against the window and looking like he felt as safe as if it had been Darry at the wheel instead of Pony. Pony carefully turned left – it was a four lane highway and the man turning at on his left looked quite angry at his poor driving. He was too sharp on the corners, said Soda. He kept drifting to the right, said Soda. Well, what did he expect? Pony knew he shouldn't be on this road. He knew he wasn't ready.

He saw a boy who looked about eight in another car raise his arms and shake his head, as though questioning what the hell that idiot was doing on the road. Pony's already sweat slicked fingers obtained a new coat of moisture. If an eight year old was doing that, then it meant he was a worse driver than he had even imagined.

Soda jumped and went into another coughing fit as Pony again drifted too far to the right, hitting the curb violently before swinging too far left, earning him an angry beep from another car. "You're drifting, Pone," Soda managed to say between coughs.

Pony's hands tightened on the wheel. "I know that, Soda! Can we go home yet? I'm obviously not doing as well as you expect and you're not teaching me." They shouldn't have gone out today. They were both tired and stressed; Soda had been horribly sick the night before none of the Curtis brothers had gotten enough sleep. Darry had been snapping at anything and everything that morning and so when Soda had suggested they go driving Pony had jumped on the idea, thinking it was just an excuse to get away from Darry. He hadn't actually known Soda was serious.

Soda coughed a couple more times, making Pony's already frayed nerves rise again. He shouldn't have been out in the traffic with all the trucks belching smoke and Pony knew it. He was having a bit of a pride attack; after the battering it had taken yesterday Soda was probably trying to reestablish himself in his own mind. "Fine, we'll go home," he muttered. His voice was becoming hoarse.

Pony gritted his teeth. There was nowhere to pull over anywhere he could see; the best he could do was turn into a road on the right hand side. There was no way he was driving all the way home. He'd had enough.

The gears grated roughly as Pony tried to turn into the road, and it shocked him so much that he lost control for a moment and swung into the left lane. "Don't –" Soda coughed again. "You'll destroy the car."

"I know," Pony said tersely, finally stopping outside a yellow house that was falling apart.

Soda stared at him as though he were looking in a mirror and finally seeing what he'd been like all this time. "Oh, Pony, I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I expected way too much."

Pony finally summoned courage enough to let go of the wheel, and he removed the seat belt with a feeling of relief. "It's okay," he muttered. "But I ain't driving this thing another inch."

Soda smiled. "Fair enough."

They swapped seats and Soda started the car, pulling out onto the side street with a lot more grace than Pony had managed to park with.

Ponyboy now rested back against the seat, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the throbbing headache that he was now able to concentrate on. All in all, he decided, he was having a terrible day.

He opened his eyes once again when the car gave a very similar jerk to the ones it was giving when he was behind the wheel and had just realized he was drifting. Soda was trying not to cough, but the effort was fairly substandard; his body was jerking oddly and his eyes were watering. Ponyboy's level of agitation rose abruptly once again. "Soda, I think – are you okay?"

Soda didn't give him much of an answer, not that Pony had expected one. They were back on that highway, and now Soda seemed to be doing about as well a job at staying in his lane as Pony had. Needless to say, it was a pretty nerve wracking time. "Soda, I think you need your inhaler."

"Took it," Soda gasped, and Pony knew it was true. He'd been taking an awful lot of that stuff. "Doesn't – doesn't work."

Pony swallowed nervously. "I think you should pull over."

"Can't," Soda said. Pony grabbed the wheel as he swerved dangerously towards the left.

"Use your hazard lights! I don't care where we are; pull this thing over right now!"

Soda glanced at him through watering eyes but did as he said, pulling as far into the right hand lane as he could and turning on the hazard lights. Pony could see a few people passing them give them rude hand gestures, and there were several horns sounding from behind, but he didn't really care.

"There's a gas station just up there," he said. Soda had given up trying to hold in his coughs and was now bent over double in the seat, hugging himself as though by doing that he could keep the air in. "You need to sit up," Pony said as gently as he could. Inside he was freaking out, but outside he would do nothing to upset Soda. "I'm going to call Darry, see if he can get us." Soda nodded into his knees. "Soda, sit up."

Soda obeyed this time and his coughs lessened somewhat, giving Pony the courage to leave him alone. "Keep using your inhaler; it might start to work," he advised, getting out of the car and starting off towards the gas station.

It wasn't a long walk, maybe three minutes, but it felt like a lot longer to Pony. He felt sick. He was absolutely sickened by what he had done.

There wasn't any doubt in his mind that Soda was only this sick because Pony had spent the drive home yesterday smoking. Sure, Two-Bit and his mother had been smoking too, but it wasn't like they were the ones sleeping with Soda. He'd probably gotten used to being healthy and feeling better, now he was right back where he'd been before Pony had stopped – worse even, because he wasn't used to it any longer.

Ponyboy picked up the phone and inserted a quarter. It rang for a few seconds before it was picked up by someone that sounded young and female – definitely not Darry.

"Rachel? It's Ponyboy. Can I talk to Darry?"

The youngest Mathews yelled for Darry before he heard the sound of the television being switched on and Rachel laughing in the background. "Hello?" Darry said.

"Darry, it's me."

"Ponyboy? What're you – I thought you were off driving with Soda."

"I am – was," Pony corrected himself. "Look, I'm on a payphone, I don't have much time, can you come pick us up?"

He heard Darry sigh. "You didn't total the car, did you?" he asked, sounding like he dreaded the answer.

"No, it's just that Soda decided to take me out on this highway, and I can't drive on a highway, and he was being a terrible instructor –"

"Why don't you just ask Soda to drive?"

"He's having an attack." Darry groaned. "He tried driving, he's… he ain't much better than me, Dare. So please pick us up?"

Pony could almost see Darry biting his lip. "I can't Pone, you guys have the car, Mrs Mathews is at work and Two-Bit's off somewhere with some girl. Said meeting with her was essential to his health… detox his system from the stress yesterday or some other bull."

"Well, can you walk?"

Darry sighed again. "Where are you?"

Pony looked up at the sign for the gas station and told him.

"Pony, do you have any idea where that is?" Darry groaned. Pony shook his head, forgetting that Darry was on the phone and could not see him. "It'd take me years to walk there. Look, just… You're either gonna have to wait until Soda feels better or drive yourself."

"Darry!"

There was a momentary silence on the other end. "Is it… is it really that bad?" Darry asked quietly.

Pony was feeling decidedly angry at Darry, and stated fumingly, "I ain't a doctor, Darry. You of all people should know that Soda having an attack ain't exactly good."

"Don't get that tone with me," Darry said warningly. Pony made a face he was glad Darry could not see. "See if Soda's got any cash, if he does call a cab. Otherwise just drive to the nearest bus stop, or at least somewhere I can walk to, okay?"

"Fine," Pony growled. They said very quick, slightly snippy goodbyes and Pony hung up, beginning to walk back towards the car.

It was only yesterday that they had officially been declared a family again, and they were already fighting. After so many hours hoping and praying he'd stay with Darry, here Pony was, walking along a highway and thinking horrible things about him. He couldn't deny that he was furious with Darry. How could he be so uncaring? Pony was alone and trying to do the best he could with Soda sick and sitting by himself in the middle of a highway. And Darry just sat at home telling him to sort it out.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind Pony knew what he was thinking was nothing more than the silly results of a tired and overstressed mind. There really wasn't anything Darry could do; they had been driving for quite a while and he wasn't really surprised they had gone so far away from home. But on the surface he was fuming with anger, and it felt good. Darry cared about no one but himself.

He got back to the car to find Soda sitting in much the same position he had left him, leaning back in the seat with his arms wrapped around his sides. He wasn't coughing any longer; his eyes were closed and Pony felt a moment's panic as he thought he might be unconscious.

"Soda?" he asked, and Soda opened his eyes. "I called Darry… everyone's taken cars everywhere and he can't walk this far." Soda didn't respond. "How're you feeling?"

"Like trash," Soda said, coughing on the last word. It was only one small cough, but it cemented in Pony's mind that Soda wouldn't be driving them anywhere.

"You have any money on you?" he asked, remembering Darry's suggestion of a taxi. Soda shook his head and Pony sighed. It was time to be what he never was. It was time to look out for Soda the way he was always looking out for him. "Okay, swap seats. I'll drive."

When Soda got out of the car, Pony picked up the discarded inhaler from where his brother had left it on the seat. He puffed it into the air, only mildly surprised when he didn't see the white cloud he should have seen. No wonder it wasn't working. The damn thing was empty.

He walked back around to the driver's side, being mindful of the traffic around him.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. He was scared, scared almost beyond reckoning, but what scared him more was the thought of not getting Soda medicine. His final hope that they might be able to just wait until Soda was well enough to drive had been dashed when he realized he hadn't been getting anything from the inhaler.

"Soda, you gotta tell me where to go," said Pony as he buckled himself in, carefully turning on the car and remembering how it had jerked forward frighteningly when he had started it earlier. Mercifully, he didn't jump forward into the oncoming traffic the second his fingers touched the key, but started the car just like Soda and Darry would. He switched off the hazard lights and pulled back into the traffic.

A thought came over him as he drove through the sea of cars. He realized he felt powerful. And wasn't that why Soda loved driving? It gave him power. And boy, did it feel good!

"Pone!" Soda croaked; apparently his voice hadn't quite recovered from the many coughing fits he'd had through the day. Ponyboy slowed down; he'd been about to drive right through a Mustang. On the list of things to do if you wanted to make Darry angry, that was pretty high.

"Turn right here," Soda said, coughing again. Pony was glad; right turns were so much less scary than left.

"Hey Soda?" Pony asked after a while.

"Hm?"

"How d'you feel… you know, about Steve?"

Soda opened eyes that had remained, for the most part, shut since he got into the seat. "He's my best friend."

"No," groaned Ponyboy. How to approach this… "About him… attacking those boys."

"Oh," said Soda. "I suppose… if someone were to attack him – or you, for that matter – I'd get nasty too." Pony pondered this for a while, but was spared answering when Soda changed the subject. "Watch your speed; you keep going over the limit."

Pony wasn't exactly surprised that it was the last thing Soda said. He nestled himself into the corner between the seat and the door and shut his eyes, finally looking peaceful.

It wasn't exactly peaceful for Ponyboy. Soda had been right: his speed was fluctuating between far too fast and far too slow, made more difficult by the hills. He didn't want to wake Soda up; it was the quietest he'd been for twenty four hours and Pony wasn't willing to end it. He laughed to himself. He wanted Soda quiet so he knew he wasn't having a hard time breathing, but on the more selfish side, he liked the peace.

He slammed on the brakes as a group of five or so people ran out onto the street in front of him. Soda woke with a start, looking blearily at Pony as though questioning why the abrupt end to his nap. Pony didn't respond, just continued looking outside.

"Something up?" Soda muttered, sounding very groggy for someone who had only had a few minutes of sleep.

"Yeah," said Pony slowly. "Is that… is that Curly?" It looked as though Curly Shepard was fending off four Socs with his bare hands, and the fight had spilled out onto the street. They were moving too fast to be absolutely sure of the one greaser's identity, but it certainly looked like Curly.

Soda peered out the window. "I think it is," he said. "Why's he there? This ain't anywhere near Shepard ground. C'mon, let's go help him."

Pony grimaced as Soda opened the door. "I don't think…"

Soda paused, turning slowly back to Ponyboy with a frighteningly ugly look on his face. Pony would have leapt backwards had he not been sitting in a car, but as it was, he found he couldn't hold Soda's gaze for long. "You sound like our mother."

That was all Sodapop said before shutting the door and running off to help Curly. Pony remained in the car, his heart hammering wildly and confusion filling his mind. Why had Soda reacted so horribly? And what had he meant by the comment about their mother?

X X X X

A/N: Uh oh kiddies, Soda is grum-pay. You'll find out why he's being a complete stemrot, but any theories? They're like Cal's chocolate fix, only better.

Please review! Correct theories earn themselves… a personalised felt tip PEN! It even writes on glass!

Yes. Cal has been cracking the Love Actually. Which reminds me… the heat destroyed my bloody DVD player! GAH! I can't get my bloody Avatar (TV show, not film) fix, and my friend JUST leant me Friends. Am I whinging for no reason? Absolutely! When you get 42 degree summer days (that's Celsius, mind you, this chick's Australian and proud) feel free to complain in my review box too. (I won't kill you, I promise. Angry tirade over now.)